Die Erweichende Nacht
by huan yue
Summary: Sort of an AU situation. Two years after Aya leaves Weiss they all reunite. After a brief romantic entanglement, feelings between Aya and Ken still linger. What will become of them now? Aya x Ken. Shounen ai & Yaoi. Status: In progress.
1. Chapter 1: Ran

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss, I just like to play with them once in a while. My work is always pro bono.

Author's Note: Some spoilers regarding Aya and his history and I assume that the reader has some general knowledge about the series (but it's stuff I think most of you would know already). This story weaves in and out of past so flashbacks are in _italics_. Also, I just think it's fitting that Aya would like Russian authors.

**Ran**

_This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin  
Tried to reach deep but you couldn't get in  
Now you're outside me  
You see all the beauty  
Repent all your sin_

_There's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave  
You were what I wanted  
I gave what I gave  
I'm not sorry I met you  
_

_The Stars, "Your Ex-Lover is Dead"_

He pulls his collar up around him as a biting wind slices through strands of crimson hair. The long overcoat is black and typically his style but it's a mixture of wool and cashmere, rather than worn leather. His pants are no longer a heavy canvas but a tightly spun mixture of polyester and rayon. Instead of black, they are a light, businessman grey. Underneath his coat, he wears a black knit sweater and a matching grey scarf.

It's a stark contrast from the orange eyesore he sported most days in the Koneko.

He sprints down concrete steps, taking them two at a time. His leather shoes are grinding softly against the moist dirt littering the train platform. As he makes his way further underground, a warm, musky breeze kisses his cheeks. The odour of urine and fast food permeates the stale air but there is a familiarity to it that is somehow comforting. He once made this commute daily. He used to sit in the stiff plastic chairs often reading Dostoevsky or Nabokov, sometimes absentmindedly sipping a lukewarm tea in a styrofoam cup.

With a roar, the hot air stirs around him. His coat, now unbuttoned, rustles in the stifling wind. Random wisps of glossy hair tickle his ears and obscure his vision. Melding with the heaving mass of strangers, he languidly slips into the car. Taking hold of a warm, fingerprinted bar above his head, he allows the other passengers to take a seat. The train abruptly lurches forward but he doesn't stumble. A few others, left standing in the fray, bump into him but rather than contort his elegant features into a scowl, his expression remains impassive. With an easing lethargy, they speed into the black tunnel.

He can vividly remember his last trip on this route.

_It was the dead of summer, body odour and perspiration hung thickly around him. The seat he took was already warm and if he hadn't been wearing pants, his legs would have stuck to the vinyl. Even he, usually so composed, incessantly ruffled his sticky bangs to keep them off his forehead. _

_His mouth was dry. Memories tangled in and out of his consciousness, interspersed with fear and anxiety. Would she smile? Would she recognize him? Would she wind her arms around his waist and allow him the release he was aching for? These were the thoughts imprinted on his mind that day. They were so strong that even now, years later, as he stares out the window at the indiscriminate flashes of fluorescent light, he can feel them twisting in his stomach._

_He was twenty-one that day. It was the day after his birthday and his final days with what was once his haphazard family. If any moment in his life would remain distinct amidst the throng of disturbing memories cast away to be forgotten, it would be his twenty-first birthday. He was certain, as the stoic and reclusive leader, that his presence in Weiss had been solely professional. To his utter shock, he was demonstrated otherwise that July._

_The cake was decorated in highly artificial, pre-packaged icing and was designed in a gaudy rose motif. It had been up to Youji to get that. Pharmacy candles, ten to be exact, bled edible wax into a cherry flavoured "Happy Birthday". Omi went through the trouble to purchase an obscene amount of sushi and it was laid out onto their kitchen table in a delectable buffet. Ken, shy and blushing told him to wait because he had a present to give him later. _

_Inebriated from too much alcohol, again Youji's doing, they laughed. The sound was foreign to him, as he couldn't remember the last time he'd done so. And they couldn't stop. Raucous giggles, teasing banter and more toxins were imbibed in painfully short periods of time. What astounded him the most was that all of this was orchestrated to celebrate him. He didn't think they'd even remember the date. Yet there was Ken, after everyone else had gone to bed, blushing and shuffling clumsily, trying to control his limbs through his sake-fogged mind. A small gift, wrapped hastily, toyed between his calloused fingers._

His reverie is interrupted as a cold, monotone voice reminds him he is at his stop. The train jerks forward as the brakes are hit and again the horde of passengers sway helplessly in unison. He briefly shuts his eyes to mentally drown out the chaos and forces his way into the crisp, fall afternoon. The air seems colder now, since he was used to the overwhelming heat of the underground, but it's refreshing and it awakens him from his hazy contemplation.

The sun is setting earlier now. He casually glances at his watch. Luminescent numerals indicate that it's 6:12 p.m. He takes his time while walking the once well-known streets. They now seem alien. His expression never shows it, but he is inwardly alarmed at the changes on his usual downtown strip. _Can so much change in the span of two years?_ He wonders, feeling a growing sense of loss.

He pauses for a moment when he reaches his destination, his breath catching in his throat. Warm light floods out familiar windows, casting a pallid glow on the concrete sidewalk. Innumerable rows of flowers are set in a chaotically beautiful display, their silken petals a mix of vivid colours and overwhelming perfume. The same worn out bell still announces the entrance of a customer and the same faded "Closed" sign indicates store hours. His lips curve in the faintest of smiles, a softness to his composure he has only recently acquired.

"Ran!" A lazy drawl, instantly recognizable, calls him from behind. He doesn't turn around immediately. It takes him a moment to compose himself.

"Youji," despite his best efforts, the smile remains.

The older man takes one last haul on his Gauloise, the brand he's always smoked, and crushes the butt underneath his recently shined shoe. He is eager; the intake of breath, sharp and excited. His hair, still tousled and shoulder length, is drawn back into a haphazard ponytail that probably took a few hours to perfect. Instead of dangerously low leather hip huggers and a crop top, he's looking far more refined in a navy suit. The fabric, when caught in the light, shines ever so slightly. Kudou Youji, although a little older, is still chic as always. Underneath he wears a darker navy dress shirt and a white tie. There is something different about him but Ran can't quite pinpoint it. It's more than the lack of sunglasses.

He sighs, green eyes bright with amusement, "You look fucking great!"

And before he can respond, he is encased in a tight hug. Rather than stiffen, arms frozen at his side in awkward protest, he reaches over and returns the warm pat on the back. He can feel the cold November air begin to melt away as his nostrils are assailed with Youji's cologne – Obsession, as always. Some things never change and Ran decides there is something overwhelmingly comforting about that.

There is an awkward pause but it fades quickly, "You look good, as well."

He grins and makes an expansive gesture, basking in his typical mock-arrogance, "Thanks." He sighs as he eyes his former team mate once again, "God you seem different Fujimiya."

He chuckles quietly under his breath, "I suppose I am."

"Let's go inside, ok? You're a bit later than expected and Ken and Omi really wanna see you. I was just taking a cigarette break. They still won't let me smoke in there," He opens the door, ushering him inside. As an afterthought he adds, "The bastards."

The night he left Weiss, days after his twenty-first birthday, their departure was somewhat less amicable than their recent reunion

_His bag was unnaturally small. It was only when he packed up the few personal effects he had, that he realized how un-lived in his cramped apartment actually was. It saddened him briefly but in his arrogant and brash youth, he failed to see the significance of that realization. _

_He stood there for a while, staring blankly at the closed flower shop. Uncertainty weighed heavily over him. He didn't know what to expect when he arrived at the Magic Bus Hospital. Two years of constant routine suddenly ripped into uncertain disarray. For someone so fastidiously organized, he could barely cope with the realization that everything was going to be different. So he simply stood there. It had to have been at least an hour. _

_The humid air began to get through to him and he shifted uncomfortably in his light blue shirt. It may have been thin cotton but any garment felt oppressive in the thick wave of heat. Slender fingers fluttered up to his left ear. He slowly closed his eyes and with a quick intake of breath, unhooked the golden earring he once so proudly wore. He had its owner to return it to. _

"_Hey." Youji exhaled a cloud of smoke. He emerged from the back of the store dressed only in a pair of worn, torn up jeans with the tears in all the right places. _

_His eyes opened and he glanced at the lanky figure. His reply was a noncommittal, "Hey."_

"_So that's it, huh?" He raked his hand through curling brown hair, the moist weather making it wilder than usual. _

_He carefully placed the earring in his breast pocket. He could feel his heart thudding against the sharp metal. His response was only a sigh. _

_Youji continued, "…You're just gonna pick up and leave, like you don't give a shit. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." He took a long drag and gazed absently at the one or two dim stars still visible above Tokyo's garish lights. He leaned back on the small ledge jutting out from the shop window. _

_He made a soft, affirmative grunt, picking up his bag slinging it over a slender shoulder. _

"_Fuck you." Youji spat and took a sharp haul on his cigarette, the inhalation a strain on his tar-coated lungs. _

_He turned his back on him then, him and the shop. When he heard the harsh expletive, he stopped momentarily before he made his way toward the bullet train. Without facing him, he retorted, "Fuck you, too."_

"_What about Ken? Huh? I mean, I knew you were an asshole but…"_

"_And that's all I am." There was a finality to his tone that, for once, left Youji silent. _

He is amazed at how romanticized memories become, even over short periods of time. And looking back now to his rosy, disjointed past, that small argument with Youji suddenly lacks its apocalyptic weight. Especially now, seeing that crooked smile on his face while he eagerly sends him inside.

The older man bows ever so slightly and mutters a teasing, "Après vous."

He swallows thickly. Seeing Youji briefly sated his jarred nerves, but the prospect of seeing Omi and especially Ken rekindles his anxiety full force. Everything still looks the same and he inwardly sighs in relief that Momoe-san kept the place up. Somehow the thought of the Koneko No Sumu Ie closing strikes him as a rather heartbreaking one and an irrational idea suddenly hits him to buy it.

"Ran-kun! Hi!" Omi greets him from the living room.

The shock of seeing Omi, two years older, distracts him for a moment before can remember himself and say, "Hi" in return. The bubbly young man didn't get much taller. In fact, his features still hold their boyish charm as if he is the epitome of everlasting youth. His hair is a bit longer and parted to the side, rather than the middle. His rosy cheeks lost some of their flush, which is replaced with a healthy tan, and they lack their childlike baby fat. Yet the real change isn't in his features, but his entire demeanor. Instead of shorts and a baseball cap, he is in slim black dress pants, an immaculate pleat running along the middle. Over a form-fitting beige t-shirt, he wears a matching black blazer. He looks somehow casual and sophisticated all at the same time. Even his voice sounds a little deeper, or is it simply more commanding in its tone?

He is embraced again with a light squeeze and the lingering scent of vanilla. "You're late!" He admonishes with a playful grin.

He nods silently and takes the moment to glance around the living room, "Not much has changed, has it?"

"No one else has lived here since the rest of us moved out," Omi replies as he looks around as well.

For a while no one says anything as they slowly take everything in. Youji finally breaks the silence asking the question that weighs increasingly more on Ran's mind, "Where'd Ken run off to?" With these words he sits down casually on the worn out sofa, his expensive attire a stark contrast to the old furniture. "He better get back soon 'cause I'm fucking starved."

Omi takes a seat on the chair adjacent to him, pulling up his pants ever so slightly so they won't wrinkle, "He said he had to put more money in the meter."

"I thought they stopped after 5:00."

"Not on Thursdays."

"Ah."

As the conversation plays out, Ran opts to sit next to Youji, leaving a comfortable cushion space between them. The others have always remained close and he feels regretful of not being a part of that, as if he missed out on something important. He can see the ease between Omi and Youji and memories of envy at their closeness flood back. He hadn't wanted to be so withdrawn. It was just the way things were back then.

"Ran-kun, do you want me to take your coat?" There is laughter in his voice, teasing him about his unnecessary politeness.

He is startled to realize he didn't take it off yet. With an embarrassed flush, he makes his way to the coat rack by the door. Slipping out of it, he delicately hangs it up so that it won't fall down or wrinkle. Before he can make his way back to the sofa, however, the front suddenly bursts open with a gust of frigid air. Ken, being his absentminded, clumsy self, didn't consider the prospect of someone else being in the way and barges in breathlessly. Before Ran can step aside, he walks right into him. His clothes feel cool and fresh and his hair smells like a mixture of shampoo and the fall night air. He knocks Ran back, ever so slightly, and to his horror their noses are barely touching.

It had been two years, yet it felt much longer.

_When he rode the subway that humid summer night, thoughts of Youji's words lingered in his mind, "_What about Ken?_" He was jostled back and forth as the train sped forwards. A trembling hand reflexively fluttered up to his left ear to finger his trademark earring. The habit started off as a reminder that someone was still waiting for him, despite how hopeless things were. Then, over the years, it evolved into a nervous tick, something he did when deep in thought or upset about something. Only by then his fingers met something that felt entirely different. It wasn't as long as the gold earring and it was silver this time. Yet its beauty was unmistakable. It hung about half the length as Aya-chan's and was of a very similar design. The only difference was the stud at the top was of a silver rose with a small diamond wedged in the middle of its metallic petals. _

_He had so many fears that night. Would she smile? Would she recognize him? Would she wind her arms around his waist and allow him the release he was aching for?_

"E-Excuse me!" Ken gasps anxiously.

Their physical contact is only brief. Both of them stiffly pull away from one another and set to straightening themselves. A heated flush rises up Ken's cheeks as he makes his sheepish apologies. Ran nods politely and mutters a hesitant, "It's all right." But he can't say much more. He needs a moment to ground himself back to reality.

He was expecting a change. Before coming, he told his sister repeatedly that what he would face during this evening would not matter, that change is a good thing, that he was prepared. It was during his time as assassin when he learned to lie so well, especially when it comes to himself. Yet his barriers are now failing him and leaving him with a shocked vulnerability as he gazes at the man he once knew. It's not even that he looks all that different. Shaggy bangs still stubbornly fall into innocent eyes and he didn't gain or lose any weight. In fact his clothes are still a little rumpled in typical Ken fashion. It's obvious that he's only dressed up for this evening, as he's in a pair of dark and slightly loose jeans along with an un-tucked black dress shirt. No tie. No blazer. No nicely polished shoes. It's just Ken in his worn out Adidas and a disarming smile.

So what is so staggeringly different about him?

He sits in the restaurant, about an hour later, wondering the same thing. He studies Ken silently under a veil of crimson bangs through furtive glances. He sighs while he absentmindedly toys with the remnants of his penne Romanoff. As the rosé sauce cools, it's beginning to congeal and cling to the porcelain dish. Since his appetite appears to be elsewhere, he decides to occupy himself with a sip of wine instead.

"It's like these past few years never happened," Ken smiles as he glances around the table. He's slightly slumped in the leather booth. His eyes are faintly glazed over and a light pinkish hue tickles his cheeks.

Youji leans back and stretches his lengthy legs out the side of the table. He casually sips his martini before replying, a wistful air to his voice, "I know…"

"It's not like we don't see each other," Omi points out as he takes his final bite of veal Parmesan. His blazer is off now and his cheeks are flushed as well. Youji's suit jacket is hanging beside him and his tie is loosened considerably. Ran seems indifferent to the heat, although his sleeves are pulled up to his elbows.

There is a constant white noise increasing in volume around them. Although no one else seems bothered by it, Ran shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He hates loud restaurants. Instead of fighting the din to include himself in their laughter, he opts to gaze out the window instead. He can barely see through his reflection because of the darkness outside. A few random lights are made visible as cars speed by in the dampened streets but that's about all he can make out. He smiles inwardly when he notices this is the perfect way to discreetly look at Ken.

He's fairly shadowed because of the angle but there is a random flash of white with each giggle. He still nervously rakes fingers through his shaggy hair. Yet there is a nonchalance to him that he didn't have before. It's as if a weight was taken off his shoulders and the true Hidaka Ken is shining through – one whose smile is all the more natural and contagious. In the folds of his shirt, the top button undone, he can see a glint of silver against tanned skin. He gazes more intently, trying to make out what the necklace looks like but Youji interrupts his thoughts.

"So, Ran, what have you been up to for the past two years, huh? You haven't said much this evening…"

He slowly turns his gaze toward everyone. He brings his wine glass once again to his lips and takes another gulp of the bittersweet alcohol. He has already had enough but he wants to find some way to procrastinate the inevitable.

"Well, I spent about a year and a half at Oxford studying a double major in Literature and Philosophy. I wanted to get away from Japan and give Aya-chan some time to recuperate…" He pauses at the expectant looks on their faces, "I don't know what else to tell you… We recently moved back to Tokyo. It's about time Aya-chan goes back to school and I'm going to continue my studies at Waseda."

"We already know that Ran-kun!" Omi chides. He glances up, slightly startled at the bus boy who is briskly taking away their dishes. As an afterthought, he hastily throws his dirty napkin into the pile.

"Isn't it strange calling you Ran?" Ken pipes up.

He blinks, taken aback by the bluntness in his old team mate's tone, "What do you mean?"

"Well," He straightens himself, suddenly looking a bit more sober, "I mean, I was introduced to you as Aya and you left before I could really get used to the change. Something just doesn't feel right about it. You know?"

Youji leans in closer to the table to get in on the conversation, "Yeah, it's true. You're our Aya." He smiles warmly.

Annoyed at finding himself the center of attention, he tugs at his earring. The ridges of the rose dig into his fingers and with his other hand he takes another sip of alcohol, this time hoping it will settle his nerves. For a brief second Ken notices his ear. His eyes widen ever so slightly but he says nothing. Ran's voice comes out gentler than he wants it to, "It's no longer appropriate."

Omi chuckles affably, "We know that, Ran-kun, but it's different, I guess. It just shows how much has changed."

"Yeah, just need to get used to it, I guess." Ken says with a slight smile on his lips. There is something to his tone, a vague longing or thoughtfulness to it that probably wouldn't be there if it weren't for the alcohol.

Ran is compelled to apologize but bites his tongue, knowing that it's not something he should say he was sorry for. It's just inevitable, along with all the other changes in his life he has no control over. The conversation picks up again, this time about a piercing in Youji's tongue web and he's relieved that the focus is no longer on him.

"Did it hurt?" Omi leans over the table to peer at the flash of metal between the older man's teeth. He wrinkles his nose at the sight of it and then sits himself back down, "It looks like it did."

He grins wickedly, "No, not at all. I originally wanted to just pierce my tongue but I thought this would be more subtle."

Ken grins back, "It's kind of sexy."

"Everything I do is sexy, Ken, darling." He pats him on the head condescendingly and chuckles throatily at the dark glare that's sent his way.

"Oh Youji-kun…" Omi rolls his eyes.

Ran takes a glance at Ken's ears to see if one of them is pierced as well. He didn't think of it until now. He fingers his earring again, as he notices Ken's soft lobes are still bare and wonders where the matching one might be. He remembers the bewildered look on the boy's face when he mentioned it, two years ago.

_Ken was standing next to him while he sat down at the kitchen table. Omi and Youji were already in their respective beds at that point and there was a calm, stillness to the apartment._

_Ken nervously placed the small, hastily wrapped gift in front of him, shuffling from one foot to the other eagerly. He simply sat there, stunned and unmoving. It was only at Ken's anxious insistence that he reached out to finger the small item. It couldn't have been more than two inches wide and two inches deep. The wrapping was bright silver and looked suspiciously like aluminum foil. After careful inspection, he realized that it wasn't since it was a little smoother and harder to peel apart. Underneath was a small, navy blue velvet box. He swallowed thickly as he instantly realized it was likely expensive jewellery. _

_He hesitated before opening it. The hinges were hard to move or perhaps he was too drunk and nervous to gauge the right amount of force to see what was inside. He knew he was shaking and was too frightened to look up at Ken, whom he could feel was staring intently at him. He steadied his hands and outwardly appeared completely calm. Still, he couldn't completely suppress the breathless gasp of surprise when he saw the pair of silver earrings. _

"_Since you have to give your sister's back, I thought you'd might like a replacement. Happy Birthday, Aya." _

_He actually hadn't realized that he probably wouldn't be wearing his gold trademark anymore and was dazed at Ken's forethought. He gently ran his fingers over the pair of them, amazed at their intricacy in design. Roses. His flower. Ken's thoughtfulness was beginning to get painful, as he never took such care when it came to the others. Nor did he think they cared for him. But Ken knew. He knew it all._

"_Ken…"_

_The boy knelt down, so that they were at eye level. His focus still didn't waver from the heart-wrenching gift yet Ken's eyes took in everything. It was a rare moment to see Ran, then Aya, expose himself and he wanted to be sure he remembered every last detail. He noted how Aya fidgeted, and although his face never betrayed its stoic mask, his eyes were surprisingly expressive. In this case they first widened and then softened. It was usually only brief but this time it remained. His lips twitched as well, but it wasn't a smile or a frown. It was a rare and beautiful sight, the subtlety in his movements speaking volumes. _

"_Ken?"_

"_Yeah?" He smiled then. Not his usual crooked grin but a sad smile, perhaps one of regret. _

"_Would you like the second one?" He still hadn't looked up. His voice was startlingly different. Ken hadn't thought of how it might change if the reticence ever left its tones but he decided that he liked it, that he enjoyed the way his name sounded when spoken of that way._

_His voice was hoarse as he replied, beginning to realize the meaning of his words, "Ok…" After an awkward silence he added, "I always wanted to get my ear pierced."_


	2. Chapter 2: Ken

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss, I just like to play with them once in a while. My work is always pro bono.

**Ken**

_I watched you suffer a dull aching pain  
Now you decided to show me the same  
No sweeping exits or offstage lines  
Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind _

_Mazzy Star (Rolling Stones cover), "Wild Horses"_

His hands tremble as they fish through pockets to find the right amount of change. Curses are muttered quietly under his breath, which is made visible from the cool night air. A few coins are slipped in the parking meter and with a loud click it's set for another two hours. Despite the frigid temperatures, however, he can't bring himself to go back just yet. He shudders into his flimsy dress shirt. He'd left his coat inside thinking he would only be out for a minute. He awkwardly smoothes his rumpled jeans. The nervous film of sweat that just recently made the indoors unbearably hot, make the outdoors even colder. It's only dinner, he silently reminds himself.

The Koneko is only a block away but he takes his time in getting there. The streetlamps dimly illuminate the dark street. He shoves his hands between his armpits to spare them from the stinging wind and bends his head forward, leaning into it. He glances across the street to see if any cars are coming and rushes across before another comes. The last time he saw Weiss' self-proclaimed leader flashes before his eyes, unbidden. The image of Aya lying unconscious in a tangle of limbs, bed sheets and sweat, will forever be embedded in Ken's memory.

_His face was unusually peaceful in slumber, swollen lips slightly parted, thin red brows relaxed from their perpetual frown, arms tightly wound around his waist. The scent of flowers clung to his skin, mingling with his shampoo and something faintly musky that was beyond description. It was intoxicating. Addictive. Arousing. Ken gently kissed him underneath his ear lobe, a light shudder coursing through him at the realization that he, Hidaka Ken, was allowed this secret privilege. To know the small scars and curves of the most complicated and reclusive man he'd ever known. To taste the salt and toothpaste on his lips, to smell the fabric softener in his sheets. To even see the inside of his room. His kissed him again to see if it was real and they made love for the second time that night._

_He'd thought about it often, but his dreams never compared to the real thing. Aya was silent as always, only allowing the faintest of moans to escape his lips. He was graceful and meticulous, like in everything he did. His lips, his tongue, his body had an ease to it a virgin could never claim. Ken was worried he was loud and clumsy, never certain if he was boyishly charming, or painfully inexperienced. _

_Yet as painfully lucid as they are, these images are tainted with the blank expression on Aya's face as he announced that his sister was awake and that he would be leaving Weiss. They never said any personal goodbyes._

When he reaches the old apartment, he rushes inside, too lost in his thoughts to consider the prospect that someone might be in the way. Before he can stop himself he runs straight into Ran.

"G-gomen nasai!" He gasps anxiously.

He can feel the taller man's warm breath, moist on his cheeks. His eyes widen. Pained with embarrassment, he quickly pulls away rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"It's all right." The reply is smooth and expressionless as always. Ken hasn't forgotten the aloof tones of that baritone voice, yet each syllable felt like a slap in the face. Perhaps it's the subtle hint of warmth behind that faint smile. Living with his sister had an effect on him. Ken expected as much. Although he refused to admit it to himself, he was jealous.

He ached to be the one to break through the carefully constructed brick wall known as Abyssinian. He spent years tactfully fighting his way through that blockade and readily accepted the abuse that ensued in the process. Their friendship hadn't begun ideally. Blows both verbal and physical were dealt out with unrestrained aggression. Yet there was a familiarity between them that seems to have always existed. Ken knew about his sister, what his name signified. They would talk quietly at length about the most inane occurrences at the Koneko, to their most carefully guarded secrets. He began to slowly discern the subtle language of Aya's facial expressions and grew to learn how to respond accordingly.

And on the rarest of occasions, he even got him to smile.

"_Damn it, Aya, I'm not that late!" Youji sighed exasperatedly. _

_Behind a curtain of red roses, an arrangement he was in the process of meticulously creating, Aya scowled, "Your lifestyle is your prerogative. Just don't let it interfere with your responsibilities."_

_Rather than respond, Youji loudly groaned and hastily threw his apron on. Ken was feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. Relief because the wrath of Abyssinian wasn't directed at him and anxiety because Aya's moods had a dreadful contagiousness to them. _

"_Well I'm late because of you." The words themselves weren't that harsh, but again, the katana-wielding assassin had a way of speaking that gave them a level of gravity no one else could. Each syllable was leaden with frost, pronounced slowly and deliberately for greater effect. His entire body language, in its perfectly restrained minimalism, just added to the overall severity to his voice. _

_And with the taunting jingle of the door chime, he briskly made his way out. _

_Feeling particularly bold that day, Ken dashed out after him. It wasn't just Youji's tardiness that was bothering him. Ken had been with him all morning, secretively (or so he hoped) watching him. His instincts were screaming that something far more insidious was at play. Aya wasn't a clumsy man. Even while battered and bloodied after a brutal mission, he would walk steadily to his car and drive home obstinately. Unless he was completely unconscious, which only happened on a few rare and especially dire occasions, he would staunchly exhibit an aura of cocksure self-control. _

_Yet today, not only did he spill over an enormous pot of flowers, soil everywhere with a few select curses, but he mixed up two orders. This may have been typical Ken behaviour, but it was shockingly unlike Aya._

"_Wait!" _

_By the time he caught up with him, he was out of breath. For some reason walking to Aya meant jogging for Ken. Only when he stopped, did he realize how cold it was outside. The sidewalk was covered in a thin sheet of powdery snow that slowly began to seep into his mud-stained running shoes. He was dressed only in a sweater and jeans, the clashing green apron, barely enough protection against the December wind. Small white flakes stuck to his dark hair, slowly melting on contact. _

_Aya stopped but didn't turn around. _

_Panting slightly Ken continued, "Uh… you ok?"_

_Thin shoulders slumped slightly as a vague response. _

_He walked around him so that they were face to face. Holding himself and beginning to shiver, he stamped some of the slush off his shoes. "I know something's wrong…" his voice trailed off. He was suddenly feeling uncertain at the blank expression sent his way. _

"_It's none of your concern." Aya brushed past him and continued walking at his ridiculously fast pace. _

_The warmth of the shop was calling him at the other end of the block but Ken, feeling just as stubborn, followed him anyway, "It is when the team is at stake!" Suddenly marveling at his ingenuity Ken awaited a response. He knew Aya wouldn't just talk about personal matters for no reason at all, but when it came to Weiss or Kritiker, he would do just about anything in the name of practicality. _

_He stopped again, only this time whirled around to face the younger boy. His brows furrowed into a deep frown and his eyes flared with anger, "And here I thought you were worried about me because you care." Violet eyes narrowed. He turned on his heel and continued walking even faster, but somehow never losing his steady rhythm, "Go back to the shop. Youji can't manage on his own." _

_His face fell, but for only a moment. "No!" He sighed and continued after him, "I didn't mean it that way!" But as he rushed forward to catch up to him once again, he slipped on a sheet of ice and fell forward taking Aya down with him. There was enough snow to cushion their fall but it quickly left them soaking wet. As elegantly he could, Aya stood up and dusted himself off. _

"_Damn it Ken!" Aya shouted. It was rare that his voice rose but he was feeling especially exasperated. Nevertheless, the forlorn look on the boy's face, as he sat helpless in the dirt and slush, was suddenly comical to him. Before he could stop himself he cracked a smile, which subsequently became a faint chuckle and then before he knew it, Ken was joining in. _

_Falling was worth it. _

He knows he's had too much. He knew that hours ago but it doesn't stop him from ordering more sake. He doesn't really like the taste of it but he knows Ran and Youji do, so to appease them and to keep Ran drinking, he acquiesces to the gym-sock flavour of the hot liquid. Besides, after a few glasses and the wine from dinner, it goes down like water. Warm, soothing water, he muses foggily.

They are probably the last ones in the restaurant, much to the dismay of the closing staff. They are also quite noisy, especially he and Youji. Omi is nearly passed out while Ran opts to simply stare out the window distantly. The plates have already been cleared, all that's left behind are a few spills, a few crumbs and their crumpled napkins. The centrepiece's candle is drowning in a pool of melted wax and one of the waitresses gives them a subtle hint by placing their bill on the table with a smile.

"I'll take care of it." Youji nods firmly as he reaches for the small black tray. Four red and white mints hold the piece of paper in place.

"No, no, no!" Ken sways in his seat and reaches forward as well, "Let me!"

Omi blinks and shakes his head, trying to piece the situation together in his inebriated mind. Ran glances at the two of them and casually tosses his credit card into the tray. Before anyone can argue, the eager waitress briskly takes it away.

Ran gives their fallen faces a half-smile, "You can take care of it next time."

He's met with a series of half-hearted protests and promises that they will take him out to repay his generosity. Ken begins to feel stifled and hot and after all that drinking, desperately needs to go to the bathroom. With a polite and slightly uncontrolled nod, he shakily stands up and makes his way towards the back.

It's only now, when he is finally alone, that he can let some of his façade slip. He splashes cold water on his face to try and sober himself up a bit, suddenly feeling embarrassed at how loose he's been most of the night. _Isn't it strange calling you Ran?_ His words echo repeatedly in his mind, sounding increasingly stupid each time he hears them.

He glares at his reflection, at his bloodshot eyes and wrinkled shirt. "You're a fucking moron, Hidaka!"

"Who are you talking to?" Ran suddenly asks from behind him.

Ken quickly whirls around to face him. He is certain that Ran had more to drink than he did. He's been watching him. He knows. Yet the only proof of this is the very slight flush on his ivory cheeks. Otherwise, his composure, his speech is perfectly controlled, much to Ken's vexation.

"Uh, n-no one…" He stammers as he quickly straightens himself.

"Oh. I thought you said something."

"Nope." He smiles, although it's not very genuine and there is something very conspicuous about the way he is holding himself.

"We're leaving. Do you need a ride?"

He thinks about his car and his current state. He thinks of catching a furtive moment alone with Aya and takes a deep breath as he nods.


End file.
